Invis­i­ble Cities has come and gone, like an espe­cially memo­rable thun­der­storm. The entire process made me quite grateful for my musical “family” in New York— and it truly was a “family” affair. Besides Chris, most of the Sleeping Giants were involved: Ted conducted, Jacob was the audio engineer, I played in the orches­tra and accom­pa­nied rehearsals. Laura Grey, Rob’s fiancée, designed the beau­ti­ful video projec­tions. The list goes on, and of course, everyone is connected to everyone else, as is often the case in such produc­tions.

The next big dish on my plate is family-oriented and locally-sourced. This is the solo concert I’m prepar­ing for Barge­mu­sic on June 9. I am trying to imbue it with a sense of “place”. Some of that is geograph­i­cal: Chris’s Hoyt-Scher­mer­horn is a noctur­nal rumi­na­tion on that nearby infamous subway transfer; Jacob’s new Clifton Gates refers both to my street address and my own predilec­tion for Phrygian Gates (by the way: Jacob’s piece makes use of actual elec­tronic gating, courtesy of Max/MSP. I know, we’re bleeding-edge).

Barge­mu­sic is first and foremost a stalwart presen­ter clas­si­cal chamber music. Ted’s piece, also brand new, is called Parlor Diplo­macy, and is Ted’s take on one of my favorite post-modern tropes: taking a small fragment of “clas­si­cal music” and using it as the basis for a piece in one’s own style (here it’s Mozart and Brahms, at least in the parts I have so far). This will be the program’s nod to all the chamber musi­cians who frequent the Barge.

Two slightly older pieces round out the show: Derek Johnson’s Infinity Plunge, filling (nay, over­flow­ing) the role of virtuoso barn-burner, and Ingram Marshall’s Authen­tic Presence, which is— how to say it? Really Ingram-y, that is to say, epic and beau­ti­ful.

Of course, we’ll all be afloat, so what can I possibly do but play my newest piano piece, At the River?

Some­thing funny has happened over the past couple of months: Crashing Through Fences has taken off. A small flood of people have ordered the score and sched­uled perfor­mances. If you’re one of those people, or are planning to become one, I’m going to come right out and ask: why? This is possibly, no defi­nitely, my most annoying piece. Piccolo and glock­en­spiel— I mean, are you kidding? Is this the reason my more expe­di­ence-minded compo­si­tion teachers told us to write percus­sion music? Do percus­sion­ists and flutists date each other a lot? I’m not complain­ing, in fact I’m thrilled— just a bit confused.